


Isn't Something Missing?

by aphohm



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Anger, Blood, Depression, Self Harm, Suicide, Weapon use, anyway, im just, im not sure what im doing rn so i can descrie it, kin fics man, other chracters not on blue team are sorta just implied lolzzz, really vauge crap on a plate i guess?, sigh, the relationship is past/ implied lol, umm, umm tags ok, whaterver lolz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:46:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6927043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphohm/pseuds/aphohm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically a vent fic in which I puke words to express feelings. Take these relationships however but really I just,,,, hm. anyway, hope you enjoy this mess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Isn't Something Missing?

The rage is all consuming

It eats at every aspect. He sits there anger boiling beneath his skin, every sound and sight and sensation setting off a new wave of mind numbing rage. His vision is red and his nails would threaten to cut through his skin had it not been for his body suit. His armor has been removed hours previous for a reason he hasn't bothered to identify. He growls at the slightest echo throughout the base. He rises nauseated by the mere thought of existing in such a state where every sound is just another trigger where all he wants is a knife and all he wants to do is carve away his skin.

He doesn't do that. He doesn't arm himself with a knife and destroy what little sanity he has left. He dons his armor and walks. He goes on a walk and every sound and every breath only makes the anger worse. The pit residing in his stomach never shrinks only expands till it rips him open. He just continues to walk. He continues to breathe and pretend this is healing himself when in reality it's making it all worse. It's times like these where he wishes the gift of a broken mind Epsilon had given him had taken his life. He wishes in times like these that the factored mind he now lives with would have just died when it had the chance when no one needed him when he was useless. He wishes that when he was that bobbing thing all those years ago back in Valhalla that it killed him. Maybe now he wouldn't be gripping the handle of his knife somewhere outside his base with a lost feeling eating away at everything he was. Everything he is.

He wishes that he didn't have people to let down. He wishes he didn't feel so guilty not writing a letter some sort of "I'm sorry" despite how useless it is. He does the next best thing. He lies his helmet down after recording a few words and wonders of with tears sliding down his face. It's been too much now, the anger, the pain, and the suffering he's been through its all too much and it's simply reached the point he can no longer take it and nothing will make this feeling go away. He walks away from his base a final time to lose himself in a broken ship on a planet that is too far away from home.

He thinks of what he might have called home as he removes his armor somewhere within the ship. He wondered for hours looking for the proper place to finally take away all of the pain. He thinks about how the one place he truly ever called home crashed and burned in flames as his only family tore itself to shreds. He thinks that it's all useless that he should finally close the chapter in the book of freelancers that he should be the final page of that book that if he's gone maybe this will save this group of misfits stuck on a planet because of him and his dead family. The thought would normally bring tears to someone's eyes but he sits there blank expression dead inside no emotions. He breathes out a sigh and finally gets the final piece of armor off. He smiles to himself before taking the knife and stabbing it into his arms and taking it up to his elbows. The scream he lets out is a beastly one finally submitting to the carnal need inside himself to rip his flesh open and feel the pain and the blood and it's nearly euphoric in nature. He takes the knife and lets out a sob. Whether it be of relief of sadness or pain or some other emotion he's unsure of before he plunges the knife into his neck, ending all those swarming thoughts. His body falls against the wall from where he sat on a meager stool. Agent Washington, David, is finally at peace. He no longer feels anything at all.

The next morning the teams awake to the deep-seated feeling of utter dread. An Aqua suit of armor steps into the sun and he glances around looking for his impromptu leader. He looks to the ground only for a brief second before finding said leader's helmet. Sickness runs through this man's veins at the sight of this helmet. He runs and runs through his own base looking for the owner, for Washington. He finds nothing but a deep blue set of armor tilting its own head in curiosity.

"Tucker what are you looking for?" This deep blue addresses the aqua. Tucker looks to the other and nearly chokes on a sob, confusing the deep blue.

"Caboose," Tucker says addressing his friend, "Washington is missing." This, of course, alarms Caboose because Washington has made his life better is a million and one ways. He's his second best friend outranked only by Church himself. Caboose becomes frantic in running throughout the base calling out for Washington. The Duo make their way in record time to inform their former enemies that Washington has gone missing. They all agree to search for Washington having come to at least slightly care about him over the course of time.

They finally find him, pale and blood drained lying propped against a wall somewhere from within the heart of the ship. Caboose finds him first and lets out a wail to outmatch that of a lone wolf crying out for its long dead pack. The rest come rushing to the sound of the lonely howl to find the same horrific sight, now only with Caboose, helmet off shaking the dead man begging him to come back. Tucker collapses onto his knees and violently shakes at the sight laid before him. The others were in various states of shock ranging from absolute anger to full blown panic attacks.

Eventually, Caboose carries the dead out of the ship and lays him in his former bed. No one is sure what to do. So they do nothing. They bury him a day later before the body starts to stink too bad. No one cries because they're all too angry to say a word. This doesn't bode the future well, when has anything for this ragtag bunch ever. The death of former Project Freelancer agent, Agent Washington was simply the final stone that set up the destruction for them all.

**Author's Note:**

> There's gonna be a second chapter with Epsilon n' Carolina so yay I guess.


End file.
